I never watched 101 Dalmatians as a child due to the fact that my parents subscribed to the thought that once one child (my brother) had seen a movie years before the others were born, they were not going to rent a DVD again just so the other child (me) could watch it. Because of this, I watched Cinderella for the first time at age 13.
So, I had no expectations nor interest in watching Cruella until my brother, who has very strict taste in movies, told me it was actually really good. With his recommendation and Disney+ password in hand, I watched the film a few weeks ago with my father while visiting home.
Not only did Cruella finally make me want to watch 101 Dalmatians, but it also gave me the most fun time of my life. Where I had been expecting a coming-of-age movie wrought with societal tensions until the climactic moment where Estella (Emma Stone) finally snaps and unleashes her Cruel(la) self, I was utterly blindsided by what the film turned out to be: a heist movie in more than one sense of the word. It’s made up of numerous heists, from a simple pickpocketing scheme to elaborate plots that span months, and even its non-heist events carry familiar motifs established throughout the film that render them into a heist in everything but name. Through twisting and turning schemes, dancing sleights of hand reach their way into pockets and claw to the top of the punk-inspired fashion scene in a sequence of events that can only be described as extraordinary.
After Estella’s mother dies at the paws of three giant Dalmatians, the audience is brought to the two characters who shift the entire movie: Horace and Jasper, two child grifters who take in an orphaned Estella. After a ten-year time skip, we meet the adult versions of the three through their many plots and heists, ornamented with gleeful displays of disguises and animal assists in the form of their two little dogs. This bite-sized compilation of their acts of thievery and petty villainy is punctuated by Estella’s dreamed-upon entry into the elite fashion world by the approval of the Baroness (Emma Thompson), the nation’s top fashion designer. It is here that a crossroads between Estella’s sought-after elite fashion life and her life of thievery appears, and the way the film combines both dynamics is nothing short of exhilarating.
The entire story is told through the structure of heists. A heist is Estella’s very call to adventure when she meets Horace and Jasper in the midst of their small-time pickpocketing scheme, and heists are what lead the audience into the plot of the film. As the film progresses, we follow the trio through various heists that escalate in intensity, with schemes developing into more extravagant affairs with each minute. They grow from pickpocketing on the bus to valet disguises and getaways to an intricate heist in a luxury jewelry store with the help of a necklace-stealing dog. These initial heists are shown in a fast-paced montage with a delightful soundtrack that captures a feeling of fun and giddiness that I haven’t felt while watching a movie in a long time.
This is because Cruella utilizes the audience’s sense of discovery. The film never lays out any of the heists beforehand, thus entering the action in medias res, forcing the audience to ascertain the plan as they watch it develop. We are both inhabiting the role of the trio in that we are privy to the small details such as a key being flung by a tiny paw or a surveillance screen being hacked into, but we are also in the role of the griftee — we have no idea what their actual plan is. This makes the “aha!” moment that much sweeter, giving us the same accomplishment as the characters as they pull off yet another heist. Because we had a part in it, realizing the plan as they actualize it, creating a dynamic act of discovery that constantly satisfies in small doses. Cruella hands us bite-sized puzzles one after the other, rewarding our moment of realization with a spectacle of flashing cameras, vibrantly colored gowns, and laughter.
Not only do these puzzles keep us hooked and entertained, but they also impart subtle impressions of the characters onto us as well. The heists have each of the characters play a similar role each time. Estella is the costume maker and overall primary “talker.” She is often at the forefront, sweet-talking lobby managers and cashiers in striking disguises of her own design. This lets us know her place in the trio: the leader, as well as a woman with an aspiration for fashion. Jasper (Joel Fry) is often the one pulling strings secretly. He picks pockets, fiddles with wires, and swipes jewelry. This perfectly sets up his action of sneaking Estella’s forged resume into the town’s fanciest clothes store for her birthday. Finally, Horace (Paul Walter Hauser) is the mover: he inhabits his disguised role to distract. Whether it be a valet, exterminator, or hair-dyed member of a punk band, he is there to convince and put the elements of the heist into place. This also describes his character, as he is the one who continuously mends the relationship between himself and Jasper with Estella with openhearted decisions of forgiveness as she spirals into villainy.
The intricacies of their dynamic are highlighted when one or more of the players are removed from the heist. This happens in two instances. The first is when Jasper and Horace must capture the Baroness’s Dalmatians. They drive up in a van and send their little dog into the pet salon to lure the Dalmatians into their van via a violent chase. It’s quick and very well may not have worked, since it lacked Estella’s element of disguise and her ability to enter with confidence. The second time is Estella’s plan to break Jasper and Horace out of jail: she wears coveralls, a hat with short black hair, and a fake mustache to drive an entire truck into the police station. The brutal crash to distract the station long enough for her friends to escape with a dog-delivered lockpick set oozes with so much confidence that it forgoes the careful planning of Jasper and the charismatic character acting of Horace. These heists, much like their entire dynamic as characters, are interrupted when one or more of them exit. This gives us the profound feeling that these people need each other, they are balanced by one another, and, as is a prevailing theme throughout the film, they are family.
Finally, as we arrive at the meat of the film, Estella (now as Cruella) enacts multiple upstaging events on the Baroness. Cruella drives onto the Baroness’s runway, disrupts her galas, and ultimately takes her entire audience in order to destroy her brand and confidence. These, too, are heists, stealing the attention of the country from the Baroness with schemes and disguises. And from here, they only get more and more entertaining, with punchier twists and immense payoffs. These aren’t literal heists she pulls, but the structural elements and motifs are in place from the first half of the film and thus create a familiar feeling of intrigue and discovery that keep us thoroughly invested as the revenge plot unfolds, waiting for the big reveal. This is best illustrated through the reveal of the bug egg dress, where the trio constantly misdirects the audience and the Baroness through purposely failed heists and stolen designs until the moment where we realize they weren’t trying to steal anything. They sneak a gown made up of ready-to-hatch winged bugs into the Baroness’s vault with all of her other dresses right before the big fashion show and destroy everything with a magnificently disgusting swarm of bugs.
The film ends with the best heist of all that ties elements from the entire film into its reveal. With a callback to Estella’s mother’s death, a utilization of every single character into the inner workings of the heist, and a disguise that delights, Cruella steals everything from the Baroness in one fell swoop. This ending had me literally cheering as all the little moments of discovery in the film culminated in one giant explosion of exquisite resolution.
Throughout Cruella, I kept reconceptualizing the movie as something different. First, it was a coming-of-age story, then it was Joker for Girls, then a revenge plot, until I finally decided to stop trying to anticipate the unexpected. Rather than trying to predict its course, the best way to enjoy a film is by appreciating the twists and turns of the story as they come, and Cruella reminds us of that with its constant gifts of mystery, discovery, and villainy.
